


For the World

by ataraxetta



Category: Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Fluff, M/M, Minor Injuries
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-18
Updated: 2017-09-18
Packaged: 2018-12-31 03:16:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12123339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ataraxetta/pseuds/ataraxetta
Summary: It's been a while since Harry and Eggsy have seen each other, and there's no reunion too sweet.





	For the World

**Author's Note:**

  * For [faedreamer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/faedreamer/gifts).



> For faedreamer. A tiny bit of domestic fluff. I hope you enjoy!

**For the World**

After five weeks and a high tension op set all over the fucking globe, Eggsy is a: smug as shit, 11: exhausted, d: disgustingly homesick, and 7: the kind of horny that could drive a man to madness.

“I haven’t even got a chance to take things into my own hands, as it were,” he confides to Merlin and Roxy. “S'not right, when a lad don’t even got time for a wank, mate. There’s gotta be a law about that.”

Merlin sighs, but Eggsy’s got his number. The thing about saving the world together is that it forges an unbreakable bond. Merlin, Roxy, and him have been through something real together. They’re a unit. One mind. One soul. There’s no secrets between them. Well, no, there’s a fuck ton of secrets between them, they're bloody spies, but the point is they’ve got no call to be shy around each other. It's only right that they should share all of life's hardships and triumphs with each other, no matter what Merlin says, and speaking of triumphs. "Oh, and did I mention me and Harry's pickin' up the baby tomorrow? Got all the forms signed 'n' everything, even though I been gone. _Good thing I'll finally be home._ " Here he pauses to let Merlin soak in the guilt of an 'easy in-and-out, three days at most' turning into a thirty-eight day clusterfuck what got Eggsy littered with new holes.

“You can turn your glasses off,” Merlin says. "I'm very busy."

Roxy, deftly prying the last bullet out of Eggsy's arm, says, “No. Last time we gave Galahad pain medication he went into anaphylactic shock. You’re on standby in case of emergency.” Belatedly, under Merlin's threateningly authoritative silence, she adds, “Sir.”

“It’s not a big deal,” Eggsy says. “It was one time.”

“Allergic reactions don’t weaken over time,” Roxy tells him.

“Look,” says Eggsy, “all I’m saying…” He gets bored halfway through the sentence and distracted by the syringe full of clear liquid that Roxy flicks at before shooting him up with.

“What?” says Roxy.

"What?" says Eggsy.

“You were going to say something,” says Merlin.

“Oh, right,” Eggsy says, and promptly falls asleep.

The next few hours are a bit hazy. Doc Pawal back at HQ fixes him up properly and once he’s stitched up, he’s bundled into the shuttle to the shop and then into a car by Marcus, who directs it to take him home. Once there he gets himself undressed and into the shower. Time must pass between him stepping under the spray and Harry sliding in behind him, because Harry wasn’t even home when Eggsy turned the water on, but the details seem unimportant. Strong arms wrap around his middle and a long body presses all along his back.

“You reek,” Harry tells him. "I could smell you from outside.“

“Nice to see you too, arsehole,” Eggsy says, leaning heavily back into Harry’s chest. “You can fuck right off.”

Harry laughs and tilts Eggsy’s mouth up for a kiss and Eggsy preens like he’s been given a reward.

He’s learned a lot about Harry in the past year, mostly that he’s a possessive bastard, which Eggsy likes, and a possessive bastard who likes to pamper Eggsy like a prince, which Eggsy also likes. He lets himself be maneuvered as Harry uses his posh shower gel to scrub a week’s worth of grime from Eggsy’s skin. It’s sensual and hot and feels fucking amazing, and Harry’s so fucking fit and naked and wet and flushed with arousal that Eggsy’s mouth floods. He’s been fantasising about this moment for a bloody month, finally being with Harry again, finally being able to _get off_ , but no matter how much he wills his dick to get hard it remains resolutely soft and useless between his legs.

“Bollocks,” he slurs.

“There, there,” says Harry. He squeezes Eggsy’s arsecheek with one hand and dips the fingers of the other into the crease of Eggsy’s bum to snub over his hole. Eggsy means to swear but keens instead, and doesn’t have the energy to bite the smug smirk off Harry’s face. “Performance issues are something every man suffers.”

“Fuck off. _Oh fuck yeah_ — ” Two slick fingers breach him for a thorough wash and Eggsy stutters. He doesn’t know if it’s the drugs or the exhaustion, but the pleasure is a slow burn, intense with nowhere to go. He rests his forehead on Harry’s shoulder, panting open-mouthed into his collarbone, long fingers rubbing up inside him just the way he likes and it feels so good he never wants it to end.

“It’s nothing to be ashamed of,” Harry continues solicitously. “Our pharmaceutical department has created something very effective to deal with erectile disfunction.”

“I’ll kill you in your fucking sleep, Harry, fucking swear down.”

“Now, now, you know what they say: homicide is death to a marriage,” Harry says cheerfully, and ignores Eggsy’s colourful swearing as he finishes up.

Eggsy’s mostly liquid by the time they get out of the shower. He wants to suck Harry off, but Harry nixes the idea and ignores all of Eggsy’s half-coherent arguments. Eggsy’s dried and his bandages are changed and he’s tumbled into bed, all in what feels like seconds. “You sure you don’t want?” he asks, gesturing rudely to his crotch. It’s not a whole question but Harry gets the gist. He’s a smart bloke like that.

“I’m sure,” Harry says, sounding amused. “We'll have plenty of time to get reacquainted next week."

Wait, what? “Next week,” Eggsy says. “What'chu mean next week?”

“I’ll be in a conference for the next six days,” Harry tells him, stroking his damp hair from his face. “I leave in the morning, remember?”

“No,” Eggsy replies sullenly. There’s a lot of arguments he wants to make, and they’re fucking good ones, too, about how they're supposed to pick up their son tomorrow, and how Harry has a lot of work to do around the bed and a load of things to see to (namely, Eggsy’s squeaky clean arse), but the hair stroking feels really nice and he gets distracted by JB jumping onto the bed, excited to see him. Eggsy curls his arm around his dog and yawns insolently at Harry instead.

Harry potters around for another few minutes, making enough noise for Eggsy to keep track of where he is in the room. After a bit the lamp on the bedside table turns off. Eggsy lets JB go to curl up at the foot of the bed and turns to be pulled into Harry’s arms. He tangles his fingers in the soft grizzled curls on Harry’s chest, and sighs contentedly when his hand is lifted to a pair of warm lips and then the comforting weight of his wedding band is fitted back onto his ring finger after five long weeks without. It ain't the longest he and Harry have been away from each other since this whole thing started, but turns out it doesn't get any easier with time. Quietly, voice thick in a way Eggsy can blame the drugs for later, he says, “Hey, missed you, Harry."

“Oh, my darling boy,” Harry murmurs, touching a kiss to Eggsy’s hairline. “I’ve missed you too, terribly. It’s good to have you home.”

He sounds pretty happy, and like he’s resigned about it, ‘cos he’s a shameless brooder and the soppy tone of his voice doesn’t match the rest of his aesthetic, probably. Eggsy’s grin might be a bit smug, but no one can see it in the dark. He smushes his face into Harry's overpriced designer roll-on fresh armpit and murmurs, "You sure you have to go conference?"

Harry says, "hm", and Eggsy doesn't get the rest before he falls asleep.

 

*

 

Harry doesn't go to the conference.

He's there when Eggsy wakes up well-rested and warm fourteen hours later, in pyjamas and an apron making eggs and toast for late breakfast, and when he distracts Eggsy from eating it by getting to his knees under the dining room table and sucking Eggsy off (turns out Eggsy's cock still works just fine). And he's there an hour later sat on the squat little sofa in the living room, toes curling into the rug while Eggsy rides him into a new plane of existence ("Hey," Eggsy says drowsily, after, "I thought you had to --mpf!" Harry's mouth is way more interesting than Eggsy's question anyway). 

He's still there to help Eggsy with a shower and help put new bandages on his injuries, and he's there to try Eggsy's new recipe for lunch (and not even gag at the little processed sausages), and he's there in the evening to take the ten minute stroll to old Mrs. Perkins’ place and let Eggsy snap a picture as he looks misty-eyed at the newest member of their family.

JB winds his leash around Harry's legs and the tiny terrier yips from his place in Harry's arms. "What d'you think, babe?" 

The puppy yawns and noozles at the big button of Harry's favorite cardigan and Harry pulls in a trembling breath. Eggsy turns his phone and takes another picture. "He's perfect," Harry says, "our dear little Hamish. Look at him."

Eggsy beams, picks JB up and snugs into Harry's side, and even grouchy Mrs. Perkins is endeared enough to take a family picture for them before she tells them to hand over the money and get out. The street lamps are coming on as they start toward home hand-in-hand, dogs trotting excitedly in front of them, JB a fucking star of a big brother as the puppy keeps wobbling into him. Eggsy squeezes Harry's hand.

"And you was gonna miss this for some stupid conference," he says.

"What's the point of being Arthur if not to delegate? Percival hasn't been to America in far too long, anyway." Harry says. "In any case," he presses a kiss to Eggsy's hair, "my darling, I wouldn't have missed this for the world."

 

THE END


End file.
